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luHa^olff Molina 




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OassXLO-35 ^5 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



sweets 

ana 

Bitters: 

or 

mptesacp- 1^ 




> 



'oAe\ 



^o ^<^^ Into- Ihalt^e ette'!>- 

'Welo ta l^cAoid 
^eloio ^lulh and Aealt o-f Xove 

beneath tAev't, dehlhlt'. 



Mingled Sweets and Bitters 



OR 

MY LEGACY 



BY 

JULIA WOLFF MOLINA 

Author of "Crowns and Tomb-Roses," "As 
Judith to Holofernes," etc., etc. 



THE 



Mbbey Press 

PUBLISHERS 

114 

FIFTH AVENUE 

Condon NEW YORK IHontreal 



frHrTT&RARYor 

I CONGRESS, 

Two Cores Received 

JUL. 23 1902 

COPVBIQHT EKTPV 

<6i.AS«a-XXa NO, 

COPY B. 

Copyright, 1902, 

by 

THE 






IV 



2lbl3eB IPcess 



Co tbe mctnorp of 

DaDia P- woirn 

mp Brother, 

€I)C faitbful and Dear Companion of IHp youti), 

mtd to the 

noble ana Cruc Wbo Suffer in tDis WorW, 

CDis t'olume i$ 

€arne$tlp Dedicatea 

bp 
Ci>e flutbor. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Good Morning 3 

Spring 7 

Summer ii 

Autumn • iS 

Winter i9 

Snow 23 

Dawn 29 

Sunset 33 

Sincerity 37 

Hope 4i 

Skepticism 45 

Despair 49 

Star of Beauty ■ S3 

Inez 57 

The Echo of Life 61 

Time and the Tide 65 

Honor's Choice ^ 69 

The Suicide 73 

To Somebody Who Knows 77 

To Whom It May Concern 83 

Tomb-Roses 87 

On Watch • Qi 

The Shipman's Love 95 

I Weep an' Wail for Jack loi 

The Jealous Coon and the Slicer 107 

The Plaint on Devil's Island 1 1 1 

The Weavers 115 

War Song 123 



vi Contents, 

PAGE 

A Voice of the 69TH 127 

The Kidded Musketeers 131 

To American Boer SyxMpathizers 135 

A Lesson in Experience i39 

My Nell I43 

Lydia 147 

A 20TH Century Girl 151 

A Little Familiar Medley I55 

Bravado IS9 

As the Wise Will Say 163 

Jose 167 

Jasup's Secret 171 

To Jose i77 

Love's Nightmare 181 

The Arrest -: 185 

Lead Me, Spirit. (An Hymn.) 189 

At My Brother's Tomb 193 

A Modern Adam i97 

A Watery Spouter 205 

Avoid Ye 209 

The Merry-Go-Round 213 

The Horror of a Night's Visitation 217 

To the Unnamable Miss 223 

Essay on Man. (In Crude Comparison) 227 

On the Suicide of an Irish Traitor 231 

Despondency 235 

Happiness 239 

Contentment 243 

Courage 247 

Beauty ■ 251 

Genius 253 

Love 259 

Good-Night 265 



am fiood 

^ m«niliis. 



«l* » *J^ 



6ood morning. 



.OOD-MORNING to thee— bright, en- 
chanted flower ! 
Hath the sun 'wakened as thy petals ope'd? 
Hath morning light burst forth from out thy 
bower? 
Or Grace — com'st thou with treason inter- 
loped ? . 
Speak thou in truth— blest jewel— for the light 

That streameth from some fairy's finger-tips, 
Disclaims the honeyed dew of yesternight 
That clings with envy to thy rose-red lips. 

Yet be it still 
Good-morning, sweet. 
Love in thine eyes 
All doubt defies. 

May the fond angels never fail thee, 
And Joy, forevermore regale thee 
Sweet, good-morning. 



^ Spring. 



«j*' d «^ 



Spring. 



WHEN Earth discards her frock of white 
and lifts her rosy face, 

To the warm sun-god's ardent kiss, and woos his 

fond embrace; 
When Nature mild — sweet as a child — 
With breath perfumed — and undefiled — 
Coos softly — Earth arrayed as Queen 
Stands foremost in her season's green — 
Bejeweled and bedecked with flowers. 
All glorious are life's blessed hours ! 

Comes dew, comes mirth, comes crystal showers. 
And heaven smiles through vine-clad bowers. 

On mountain height — o'er pleasant vale. 
The brilliant moon soon 'gins to pale. 
And birds with swelling notes arise 
To chant their rapture to the skies. 

«5* / «* 



^ Mingled Sweets and Bitters. ^ 

When tender lips — with mystic sigh 
Meet — sweetly understood ; 
Oh, Love, breathe free and fructify 
The yearning, hopeful wood. 



^ZJ'' 



1^ Summer. 



jfc9J» 



Summer. 



FAIR season of magnolias, the pride of all 
the year, 
Breathing music from her brooklets to her 
bees, 
With her zephyrs mild and redolent with per- 
fume of sweet cheer. 
And her fire-flies that dance upon her leas. 

Her crickets and her singing-birds, her echoes 
and her caves. 
Her green swards, and her forests that allure. 
Her perfect skies, her passive seas, her warm, 
inviting waves, 
And her night that whispers like an ardent 
wooer. 



j^ Mingled Sweets and Bitters* J' 

Her trees that stretch their arms to shade the 
stroller on his way 
As they bend with offerings luscious and divine. 
Oh, Helios, the mighty — and Aurora claim her 
day, 
Blessing man with sunshine, flowers and 
springs of wine. 



^\2^ 



1^ Hututtim ^ 



«3" J V ^ 



jiuruttiii« 



LIKE sheerest veil, a mist of gray 
Is creeping toward the sun. 
He tries to force it back a way 
But Nature's nymph wields power and sway 
And means to have her little say. 
Now Change her field has won. 
Sweet Summer's day is done, 
And Autumn's work begun. 
Her chill breath sweeps the seas, 
The trembling birdlet flees. 
Droop the still blooming trees, 
Their leaves wilt one by one. 

But drooping, sighing, flutt'ring, dying — > 
Still the imperious host defying — 
Pity touches — beautifying — 
Ere her course is run. 

And while Death verges — Beauty urges, 
Wailing winds to chant soft dirges. 

(S* Jo t3* 



.^Mingled Sweets and Bitters*.^ 

Nut-browned fruits replace the rose, 
Chestnuts in their burs repose. 
Nature grace and bounty shows, 
Plain in all her ways; 
Wields her sceptre firm and bold, 
Changes silver into gold — 
When her mysteries all are told, 
Heaven will ring with praise. 



«5* J- 6 sS* 



^ Winter. 



<?«t7^ 



Winur. 



[2y)TNG the bells cheerily, Winter is here, 

,1\\ With blast and trumpet, the hale 

charioteer 

Scatters white sun-beams and blows up the dust 

And makes people hustle for fear they will rust. 

For he comes with his rough winds, and pants in 

your face. 
Till the sting makes you wince, and you quicken 
your pace, 
Yet you welcome the grizzly guest for all he 

brings — 
A thousand and fifty acceptable things. 



Bright eyes — lungs inflated — a general trim 

mood. 
Good-nature and glow — a swift current of 

blood — 
Though ears may be tingling and bells may be 

jingling, gay creatures are mingling, 
And grant he is good. 



^ Mingled Sweets and Bitters. ^ 

The roses he buried — he plants on your cheeks, 
And he gladdens your heart with his frolicsome 
freaks. 
With his carnivals, fetes, and his sleigh-horses 

prancing, 
And merry feet o'er the ice-sheeted ponds 
glancing, 
What is his delight — on a crisp moon-lit night, 
Earth clad in her slumber-robp, sparkling and 

light,— 
To see youths politely 'tend maids fair and 
sprightly, and Age sigh contritely, — 
That life is so bright. 



^^20^ 



1^ SnotD. ^ 



^2J^ 



Snow* 



DAINTY flecks- 
Fluttering specks — 
Timid, feathery flakes of snow. 
Whence come you ? 
Tell me true, 
And whither would ye go? 



"We come from an old, morbid, white-haired elf, 
W^ho chaffs and quaffs, and growls on his shelf. 
His heart is an iceberg; when he- faces South 
And blows out his breath we escape from his 
mouth. 
Pitying mortals who freeze and frill, 
We fold Earth in ermine, to ward off' the chill. 
We. love to list to the children's glee, 
To jingling sleigh-bells, and the merry 
jubilee, 

^2Z^ 



.^Mingled Sweets and Bitters: «^ 

To the clatter and the chatter of the frivolous and 

wild, 
And to kiss the crimson lips and cheeks of ev'ry 
passing child. 
There may be much to laud indeed, in swim- 
ming pool and mud, 
But old Frost's bracing breeze, in truth's the 
best tonic for the blood. 
We love to see you bustle, and to exercise your 

limbs ; 
To see you ply the shovel for the plough, and 
feed your whims; 
Reveal the maid's good humor; the prude to 

bruise and flay, 
To brighten eyes, to ostracise the old phleg- 
matic jay. 
We are merry, we are innocent, we please, and 

melt away. 
And when at last we quit you, you cry, 'Wel- 
come, Welcome May.' " 

That is hard for us to say. 
We dainty flecks. 
We fluttering specks, 
^24^ 



t^ Or My Legacy* «^ 

We timid, feathery flakes of snow, 

But we tell you true, 

Indeed, we do. 

And sigh before we go. 

Don't we ? and bathe your feet in tears, you know. 
But for those tears — you blame us so, oh, oh.. 



J'2^J' 



^ Dau:)tt. 



J»27^ 



Dau)n« 



JUST a little silver streak 
'Lights upon the mountain peak, 
And the walls of heaven creak 
To make room for Dawn. 
White wings beat the darkened door, 
Snowy garments sweep heaven's floor, 
Charmed voices sound before. 

Voices without words. 
In the firmament a break, 
Earth is stirring in its wake, 
Night's cold wings with anger shake 

Mocked at by the birds. 
See — she lights the woods and eaves, 
Plies her wand across the seas, 
Flirts, caresses with the breeze. 

Love and cheer are born ! 
Humming bees and flowers revive. 
Busy mortals rush and strive, 
All rejoice — the world's alive — 

Hail the gladsome morn! 



1^ $uti$et« 



^Zl ^ 



Sunset 



THE day was long and fair — as fair could 
be. 
Beams scattered right and left— o'er woodland, 

brook and lea. 
Blue skies that laughed with love, to make all 

earth serene. 
But look now to the West and sigh— yea, sigh 
upon the scene. 

The bold sun hard in battle with the fierce and 
scowling Night, 

Is bathed in his own rich blood — aye, 'tis a tri- 
umphant sight ! 

Now crimsoned, purpled, suff'ring— see, he holds 
on grim and fast, 

Till smothered in the monster's shroud, the brave 
succumbs at last. 

^33^ 



^ SInccrltp. 1^ 



«** Od ««* 



Slnceritp* 



THERE'S nothing more sweet than the 
fresh breeze of morn 
fhat breaks through the veiled realms of 
Night, 
And scatters Night's shadows! just so is borne 
Sincerity — on wings of light. 

She, comes with a gusto — refreshing, divine. 

No blemish upon her fair face. 
Courage, Justice and Love cry in chorus — 
"She's mine !" 

And the sun-god extols her true grace. 

The coward and harlot, despised and debased, 
Like shadows of Night, slink away; 

But Sincerity stands on her pedestal, chaste, 
A beauty — still fairer than Day. 



1^ ROP«. 0^ 



^39j» 



Rope* 



THERE is a voice that sings to me 
In the dead hours of Night, 
When through the thick veil I can see 
No trace nor hope of Hght. 

It sings of Day, it breathes of Love, 

It whispers sweet and low 
Of castles in the realm above. 

For those who Patience know. 

I've learned to love that voice so dear, 

'Tis of my life a part. 
It lends enchantment to mine ear 

When Sorrow claims my heart. 

I've learned to know, in grief and pain, 

That comfort still is nigh. 
The song-bird finds his wing again, 

When pitying angels sigh. 



Skepticism. ^ 



•^ TC J «5* 



Slcet)tlct$tn. 



LORD, when the sun of glory beams 
Upon one's waking eyes, 
How sad it seems to wrest with dreams 
Rift with dark clouds and sighs. 

And when the voice of Pleasure cries. 

Ecstatic to the breast, 
Why nurse the care that breeds despair 

And robs the soul of rest? 

And yet, oh, yet, while ills smite hard. 

How can the mind deny, 
The brightest joy — is a decoy — 

And Hope is but a spy. 



aJ* ^O e?* 



1^ Despair. 



^47^ 



Despain 



HEN life is gray, no more of May, 
And youth and hope have gone astray. 
When the wild woodland groves are dull, 

And the poor heart with sorrow full, 
When luscious wines yield bitt'rish taste, 
The soul's ambitions — laid to waste. 

All dreams of bliss, a farce at best ; 

The heavenly realm, a thing of jest. 
When Death would be the glad retreat, 
The grave, a cushion for the feet, 

Why then not wield the weapon high, 

And spare the soul another sigh? 
Why then not soothe the wearied breast, 
And court oblivion, realm of rest? 

Why then not oil the troubled sea, 

And chance the vague Eternity? 



^49.5t 



Co tlH Star 
of Bcduip. 



JtSijfr 



Co m star or Beautp. 



[^ EAM on me fondly, Venus of power, 
.=2) Proudly I watch thee, in thy lofty bower. 
Bright in the heavens shines thy beacon, free; 
Lights my lone heart with love, entrances me. 



Would I could reach thee, far from this mad 

world ; 
Would I could grasp thy banner gay, unfurled. 
Would thou didst clasp me to thy burning 

breast. 
There, beauteous goddess, there I fain would 
rest. 



t5* OO tS* 



^ Inez. ^ 



J^ &«5 «J* 



Inez. 



'ENTLE Inez, bud of pride. 
Who would ask a sweeter bride? 
Mood and frown, and fancy, free, 
I'd have her for aye with me. 

Pretty Inez, soul of grace, 
\yith her frank and winsome face, 
Pious mien and look of love, 
Saints might envy from above. 

Dainty Inez, gem of truth, 
Priceless pearl of modest youth, 
Is the jewel of m_y eye, 
And I'll own her, bye and bye. 



dt57.Jt> 



^ CDe €cl)0 



j*59j» 



Cfte €cbo or are* 



HARK ! a voice cries loud and clear, 
"Live right— live right— trust and fear." 
Joy in laughter may appear, 

Death is near, is near." 

Teach your babeling to obey 
Lest from virtue she may stray. 
Lift your comrade by the way. 
Crown a day, a day. 

Sad, the child you barely wean 
Lisps, while eyes yet wond'ring beam, 
"What, oh, what can mother mean? 
Life's a dream, a dream." 

While illusions fill her breast, 
Craven Sorrow builds her nest, 
Till the sore heart sighs oppressed. 
Life's no jest, no jest. 
«^ o> «5* 



«^ Mmgled Sweets and Bitters* ^ 

Thus we live and thus we thrive, 
Thus we battle, thus we strive, 
Fools to race and fools to drive, 
And contrive, contrive. 

Soon the bird will cease to fly, 
Time will hush the bosom's sigh, 
And a cold hand seal the eye. 

All must die, must die. 



«5* 62 «3* 



Ctme and 

m cm. 



tl^ 6 J »?* 



Citne ana m Cide. 



^ONE are the days, those careless days, 
When Hfe vied with the sun's bright 
rays; 
When Care was treated as a toy — 
Scarce more concerned about than Joy. 

When Hke the birds with songful mirth 
We skimmed the surface of the earth, 
And laughed at Love, received Love's smiles, 
And tantalized with winsome wiles. 

Changed are the days, those careless days; 
Life's trials becloud the sun's bright rays. 
Love is revenged, and endless beat 
The tramp of Care, beside our feet. 



t3* 60 e^ 



Donor's 
Choice* 



tS* 6/ «^ 



honor's Cboice. 



IVE to me a simple maiden, 
With a pure and noble heart ; 
Not a fashion-plate, all laden 

With the goldsmith's mystic art. 
One who wears her radiant beauty 
Like a queen, in modest grace ; 
Understands life's earnest duty, 

Yields ; nor strives to win each race. 

One whose face, like clearest water. 

Would refreshen in a draught. 
Give me not a glib-tongued daughter, 

Who'd exert alluring craft. 
Who, with artificial waves, 

Twists her dyed, luxuriant hair, 
And for silver madly craves. 

But who'd scorn your woes to share. 



jf> 67 «p* 






j»7I J« 



Ci)e Suicide. 



TWENTY-THREE, and tired of life! 
What was it all ? Mockery — strife. 
Sing me no song of war. Sing me no love. 
Wrap me in some white shroud ; nearby a dove 
Bearing a message, a palm or a flower, 
With wings poising heaven ; nor mind the bright 

hour 
Of youth. What is life when with bitterness 

fraught ? 
All the dark, vanished days passeth for naught ! 
Murmur no vain regrets ; v*^hisper no blame ; 
Bury the weapon, and bury the shame. 
Moisten the grave with a gladdening tear, 
Since the cold heart beneath courted the bier. 
Shadow the spot, oh sweet evening pall. 
And let sacred silence pass over it all ! 



«3* /o «?• 



Co Someboil!^ 



^75.?* 



Co Someboap Wbo Knows. 



(November 27, 1901.) 



ME has gone ; left me without a word. ''For- 
get," 
I whisper to my breaking heart, and groan. 
I'd thought that he who knew me weU 
Ne'er could have acted thus ; and yet — 
He left me. One can never tell 
When serpents lurk in men. 'Tis well — 
Without a word. Fate has been false. I moan 
Here in my study, humbled and alone. 

But why — why must I feel this desperate grief 
and mood? 
Is it because I loved him so? Speak out, 
Poor aching heart, 'twill do thee good. 

Know silent grief is killing, without doubt. 
^11 ^ 



^ Min gled Sweets and Bitterst^j^ 

Yet solemn are the shadows. Hope misgives. 
I would life's spark went out — for earthly 
peace. 
For while one strives, rebellious Fate still lives, 
And while the heart throbs, love's pangs will 
not cease. 

For shame ! I have my child ; why should I weep 
Because a prize was snatched by other hands? 
Oh, Lord, forgive me that I longed to steep 
My soul in death's dark flood. Relax the 
bands. 
And free my captive heart. Enough I have my 
boy! 
For in these closing eyes — his light were gone. 
What is frail woman's love to man? the merest 
toy. 
To her, such poignant pain his trifling, hetter 
done. 



Still must I love, must I truth confess. 
I can forgive him — still his path can bless. 
Deeds kind had won me, glances soft and true. 
Trusting, never doubting, till Deception slew. 

«5* /O «.?• 



,^Ot My Legfacy*^ 

Coldly he mingles with the smiling train, 
Calmly the changed one fawns upon the vain. 
God close the gap and still the bleeding in my 

breast. 
Help me forget him, and Time may do the rest. 



^19^ 



Co Wbom It 

map Concern. ^ 



e5» S> «3* 



CO WI)om U map Concern* 



PERFIDIOUS man, to flay a woman thus, 
j_L Of gentle breeding; sorrow's claim from 

birth. 
What is there in his m.ake-up so callous 

And unresponsive to her soul's pure worth 
That he can, all regardless of her tears, 

Her blighted past, her stifled heart-appeals,^ 

Still stab her breast? still brand those fatal sears 

That Disappointment's blade so sorely deals?. 

Why, when he'd waked love to earth's paradise. 

And led the mind enchanted o'er life's plains, 
And buoyed the breathing heart to hopeful skies 

Where music mingled with seraphic strains; 
When life was charged with heaven, 'till Nature 
glowed 

With bliss and radiance of soft lucid tone. 
And when the sun like golden honey flowed. 

Then cast her out — beyond the depths — Alone ? 
^S3^ 



♦^Mingled Sweets and Bitters*^ 

An helpless, broken craft, to breast the gale. 

With strength unfitted for tempestuous wave. 
A stripling loosed, the rough winds might assail. 

Winds he himself would hardly dare to brave. 
Unfeeling, set her drifting out of sight 

To sink in depths, or perish on the shoals, 
And say "her struggles will be shrouded soon 
with Night. 

The same abyss hath swallowed other souls." 

Oh, God of Mercy! Merciful Thou art! 

Who'd made man out of woman's very blood. 
Wilt Thou repair the damage he hath wrought? 

And wilt Thou stem the fury of the flood? 
For what were life without Thy constant care? 

The helpless lie, the strong lean on Thy breast. 
But oh ! who mostly need Thee, gi'en to despair, 

Are orphans, poor, abandoned, uncaressed. 



^84^ 



SSk Cottib- 



j^ZSj^ 



Cotnb=Ro$e$* 



HEN Evening air 
Kissed Day so fair. 
She wept and vanished 
With despair. 

She 'rose next morn 
Like one new-born, 
But Evening laughed her 
Soon, to scorn. 

And oi'er and o'er, 
With hope again, 
She struggles on. 
In vain, in vain. 

* * * H: 

Ah, what are we. 
Who think we dwell 
Safe in those arms 
We love so well? 



^ Mingled Sweets and Bitters. Jt, 

We only feel 

A loose embrace. 

We only see 

Death's darkened face. 

We hope, we love; 
What does it prove? 
A life that's sure 
Of bliss above? 

Or does it give 
Eternal gloom — 
A night of horror 
And the tomb? 

Or is it all, 
This living strife, 
Like Day new-born, 
A haunted life? 



^BS^ 



1^ On 



Watcl). 



jit89^ 



On Wdtcl). 



OME to me, darling, the red sun is sinking, 
And summer night lures with a soft, 
sighing breeze. 
The lights in the harbor like starlets are blinking, 
No echo cesounds from the boisterous seas. 

I've stood long on watch, and my diity is done, 
love. 
The engine is hushed, though my heart beats 
like mad. 
The anchor is down since the hour begun, love. 
Haste, haste, for without thee I'm lonely and 
sad. 

I long for a rustle familiar grown, dear. 

For a fairy-like footfall, dainty and light. 
My spirit unfettered, makes me feel thou art near. 

Haste. Night's shroud hath hid guilty 
"Morro" from sight. 



^ Mingled Sweets and Bitters. J- 

The war-horse is skimbering; come with thy 
smile, 

And beam on me fondly those Aphrodite eyes, 
That melt as the warm dew and kindle the while 

A love that seems drawn from ethereal skies. 

Dearest, list to the laughter that tinkles on air, 
Like cymbals — so silvery, joyons, and gay, — 

While the voice of the captive wails in his despair, 
As he droops in the "castle" just over the way. 

Where the waves kiss those rough, rugged walls, 
— oh, deceit ! 
And woo the grim monster, nor waver, nor 
rear. 
A touch — how it startles ! A voice, low and 
sweet. 
Naomi — adored one ! At last thou art here. 



a9* 7 Z eJ* 



Cbe SWpman's 



0^ 93 tS* 



ZH Sl)iptnan'$ £ODe. 



H, how I hate the deep cold sea, 
With her tempting, treacherous coquetry. 
She lures my lover away from me, 
Then dashes back her vile spray, mockingly. 

Jack is a shipman, daring and brave, 

And he laves in the sighs of each gale-beaten 

wave. 
He drains from that heaving, wild bosom, caress, 
(Yet for all that I daresay he loves me no less.) 

But her weird, fascinating, bewildering whirl, 

As she spurts silver-light over bright banks of 
pearl, 

Makes his fond eyes sparkle — his heart re- 
joice; 

His soul is charmed by the siren's voice — 



♦^Mingled Sweets and Bitters;.^ 

She flirts with her wavelets, splutters and sighs. 
Hypocrisy lurks in her Argus eyes. 
I hate her — but oh — he loves her so, 
He'd wrest him from mine, for her bosom, I 
know. 

Now green, now blue, now yellowish hue, 

She soothes the wild monsters; courts the mild 

dew. 
She is fickle in love, and a traitor, withal, 
And her folds that entice, clothe 'round as a 

pall. 

In strong arms claspt, I plead in vain, 
When I beg him desert the bold, ravenous main. 
Sadly he answers the same — "love, nay.'' 
And I turn a despairing face av/ay. 

Oh! I hate the sea, chuckling spiteful delight 
Whilst my lone, jealous heart suffers sorrow each 

night. 
Drear life that is mine — straining hours along; 
As she cradles my treasure with flatt'ry and 

song. 



.5*Or My Legacy* .56 

He gazes afar, toward Southern skies, 

And triumphs the way his proud falcon flies. 

My hearth is lonely; sad lot I share; 

Days spent with hope — and nights, with prayer. 

And there, with his engine, as with me, 
His love more bold, his heart more free, 
The mermaids lull my chief to rest. 
Whilst storm-clouds rage in my tortured 
breast. 

"God !" is my cry, "keep him safe from her snare ; 
Guard his ark. Spare — spare me that draught 

of despair." 
And I watch, each day done, for one blazing, 

bright star. 
With a wish for my love, while my heart prays, 

"Mizpah." 



^97^ 



/ 



I weep an^ Wail 
Tor 3dck* 



?fc99^ 



L»fC. 



1 weep an* Wall for Jack. 



<J^ NOTHER trip, my boy is gone. 
An, I weep an' wail for Jack. 
An' O, 'twill be full many a day 

Before the lad gets back. 
His father listed in the war, 

An' left a widow, me ; 
Our only son — my bonnie one, 

Is ever on the sea. 

I weep an' wail for Jack. They call 

My gallant sailor "chief." 
He's chief o' all the ingineers. 

It fills my heart with grief. 
I oughter feel a sort o' pride, 

But no, I must confess. 
Since that ship tore him from my side 

I've wished he had been less. 



J- Mingfled Sweets and Bitten: J' 

A nor' wind blows. I see the rough 

Wild waves rush mountains high. 
I pictur' Jack, so strong an' bold, 

No thought o' what's to die. 
While others clamber to the deck 

In dread an' speechless fear, 
My noble lad stands at his post, 

An' guides men, cool an' clear. 



He recks not o' his mother then, 

Nor o' the little lass. 
Who hides her secret; waits like me 

For days an' weeks to pass. 
Who shadows him thro' sun-baked clime, 

Where raged cruel war; 
O'er fever-laden coast an' zone, 

Until her heart is sore. 



We're alius thinkin' o' the worst, 
An' yet he ne'er falls short. 

His ship comes in on time expressed, 
He lan's her safe in port. 



Jk Or My Legacy* ^ 

A blessin' on my Jack. His ark 

Be ever safe an' sound, 
Is my one hope the hve-long day, 

My prayer, the whole year 'round. ■, 



.5^ J03jfc 



Cfte Jealous Coon 

ana tDe Sllcer, | 



^ 105 »5» 



Cbe 3ea1ou$ Coon ana m Slicer« 



Do you love me, Ollie? 
Come, now, no more jolly. 
Is it me or Cholly? 

Give your answer quick, now do. 
For I've brought my slicer— 
Bet you on my dicer — 
Nothing would be nicer 

Than to cut your heart in two. 

Willie, naughty Willie. 
Give me no such nilly. 
You are talking silly, 

You cracked, id'otic man. 
Think you that a nigger 
With my swell, athletic figger 
Would be frightened by your digger? 

Then away poor Ollie ran. 



^ Mmgled Sweets and Bitters. ^ 

Yelled he, ''Ebenezer !" 
Flourishing his razor, 
Swearing like a blazer, 

With a bulldog at his heel. 
First he turned and sicked him, 
Then got mad and kicked him. 
Doggie sweetly licked him, 

Snapped his calf and made him squeal. 

Ollie grinned defiance. 
Broke off the alliance. 
The police tried "science," 

With clubs and fists so nice. 
Ollie smartly snickered 
At the very, very wicked 
Willie, shouting "Get your picket, 

Bill, your slicer cuts no ice." 



.5^108^ 



CDe Plaint on 
DeDirs Island. 



J'\09^ 



ZU Plaint on Deuil's island. 



DOWN in a prison by the sea, 
Wearied with sad monotony, 
Branded, yet innocent, languishing, lone, 
(E'en the cold breakers in sympathy moan) 
Thinking of home, far, far-away home. 
Wild, deep and hopeless thoughts ; thinking of 
home. 

Is there no way, O Lord, the wronged to save ? 
Must living Truth, entombed, writhe in her 

grave ? 
Bare the base tyrants — the traitor unmask ! 
Justice, not vengeance, is all that I ask. 

Hear, for the ones I loA^e, for them I plead. 
Thinking of home, O God, makes my heart bleed. 
Dreaming, disgraced, an exile, blankly I roam 
O'er this lone cell, nor rest, thinking of home. 



♦^Mingled Sweets and Bitters^o^ 

Looks o'er the wide expanse ; hears the mad roar ; 
Echoing voices that cry from the shore. 
What work of demons this black mystery? 
Thick shadows fall, 'tis plain, base treachery. 

God heard and rose in might; the crushed up- 
raised. 
Martyrs for Justice — Zola — Piquart, are praised. 
Dreyfus is liberated, shouts the glad sea! 
Home he sails, thanks to God. Truth is set free. 



^n2^ 



^ CDC 



Weavers. 



j^n^jt 



Cbe Weauers* 



POPE INTERCEDES. 

ASKS FRENCH JESUITS TO MODERATE THEIR VIO- 
LENCE AGAINST DREYFUS. 

London, Aug. 29 — 4 a. m. — The Pope, ac- 
cording to the Rome correspondent of the Mail, 
conferred yesterday (Monday) with father Mar- 
tin, the head of the Jesuits with the view of per- 
suading the French Jesuits to moderate their 
violence toward Dreyfus, His HoHness being 
alarmed at the trend of events in France. 

(Corpus Delicti.) 

BY subtle craft, the worms grove from be- 
neath ; 
Cowled — silent — in the darkness crept, 
And loosed the noble earth, 
'Till France's whole base trembled. 
While on his man-made throne the papal god, 



«^ Mingled Sweets and B itters^ J- 

With finger on his thin-drawn bloodless lips, 

Sat smiling- blandly, as scheduled and timed he 

The dastards that bore out 

His Vaticanship's orders. 

Totters the unwary Frenchman, 

And now and then mysteriously he wonders 

What devil eats the honor of proud France ? 

The demon grins — he, so secure from sight. 
As the wrought wires speed encouragement to 

Rome : 
" 'Tis well ; the means bids a fair end. 
We conquer through the darkness 
Sharp eyes cannot pierce, so let them fight. 

"F/ance, Rome — aye, Italy — all shall yet be ours ! 
Give the fools voice; they beat their own hearts 

out. 
How can he fight whose feet shall find no hold? 
We, from beneath, strike upward to their forms. 
So sure the means affords an end most fair, 
And thus the vanquished give ground to the foe : 
Say then — whcv wins?" 

:H '^ ^ ^ >ls 



^ Of My Legacy* «g^ 

But on a sudden, through a crevice gained 

A tiny streak of Hght. The world's eye grasped 

And threw its search-light down. 

They saw the hideous, grovehng, snake-Hke 
forms 

In slimiest nooks and crooks and archways wind- 
ing, 

Steeped in their heinous crimes, and blacker 
scheming mettle. 

As on they grill and grind, and still wind on. 

Like threads drawn from the insect fine, 
A rich wide cloth spin. Oh, so clever wrought ! 
So spin they all the while (a devil's nettle), 
Till in their weaves they their own feet, en- 
tangle. 
"Ah," cries the world in guarded whisper "Foul," 
(For more than half the world has fear 
Of those cute Jesuits — who scan the measure, 
Note the betraying light. 

And crawl back to their dingy holes once more.) 
The wires ring with bitter anguish — hate. 
His papal majesty heaves a sigh of pain ; 
Bites his drawn lips and jabs his toothless gums. 
But disappointment bides not long with them. 



J" Mmgled Sweets and Bitters* t^^ 

He sits upon his holy throne, the highest 
Of those but little less. 

And when he sees the "flag of danger" flying, 
He shrinks and grumbles — hides his face — and 

frowns. 
So then he holds the reins, and for a while, pulls 

in, 
And bids his crafty hounds — but for a time, 

"desist." 

Oh, are these men with swords of might so vile, 
They cheat poor Peace, and hide behind her back. 
And creep again, and lay their cables down, 
And lift their beaten heads (so like the worm), 
Still squirming, try it o'er and o'er again. 
Until to them the means yields up 'the end, 
And the sound cloth is theirs, the recompense. 

These are their tactics; theirs the devils' wit. 
The sap they drain means food and victory. 
The base must quake and quiver at its best, 
And at their bidding fall, God's mercy failing. 
In rank, in file, in army groove they swarm. 
They dwell all-gracious till their hour has come. 



.^Of My Legacy«>gt 

But to appear all-gracious ere the stroke 
Signals that time — his scheming majesty 
Bids the "good fathers in their violence, desist." 

Oh, brand such type and creed ; 

Such religious fakes and calabooses. 

Who still can smile the same bland smile as e'er 

Rub their aged, blood-dried hands together. 

And still hiss under breath the same — 

"Give the fools voice ; they beat their own hearts 

out. 
How shall he fight, whose feet can find no hold? 
Since we, who from beneath, struck upward to 

their forms. 
And made the vanquished give ground to the 

foe." 

Heaven spare me a Jesuit's aim and art. 
I would not that he coveted my breath. 
For if he did, he'd rob me of it. Spare of hate. 
If that, he'd rid himself of me, heaven knows. 
To sate his will; and diabolic wish. 



^n9^ 



|5 war 
"^ sons* 



^I2J^ 



War Song^ 



'HEN your country calls ye boys to war — 
remember it is off. 
It's off, be't by land or be't by sea. 
Then shoulder arms with steady hearts and pre- 
pare to face the rough 
And the rugged roads like soldiers, valiantly. 
Know that your country loves ye as a mother her 
lads doth love. 
She'd guard ye to the last departing breath. 
So the minute the bugle blast resounds give step 
and march to prove 
That her brave sons will defend her to the 
death. 

When the vile tornado strikes your roof, don't 
tremble at the shock. 
For there's hope the while the heart is strong 
and gay. 
And the steadier ye stand to face the blast, the 
firmer holds your rock. 
And the sun will smile upon that rock some 
day. 



e?^ Mingled Sweets and Bitters,.^ 

Oh, land of peace and liberty, faint not — for sure 
you know, 
You can't expect a war without its cost and 
bitter fee. 
Then charge and charge and charge again— and 
forward, forzvard go. 
Your fortitude must lead to victory. 



^i2iJ' 



R Voice Of 



e^ > ^O *3^ 



H Voice or m ^m. 



LOW the bugle, blow wid yer might, b'ys, 
Fer we're itchin' fer the thicket o' the 
fight, b'ys; 
An' here's a rousin' cheer fer our banner. 
As we'd move agin' the fort at old Havana. 
As we'd smither away the old shebang at Havan' ! 

Wid tin thousand muskets blazin' in the air — 
Wid the shell an' morthar schkathered iv'ry- 

where ; 
Wid the thunderin' an' the taesin' — 
Blasht th' fear o' rainy saesin' — 
Fer the 69th'll have no zvarther schkare. 

Then blow yer blustherin' bugle wid yer might. 
Give the 69th a chance ter fly Sam's kite, 
An' they'll raise it up to honor. 
An' they'll rein the Don an' Donna, 
An' they'll braize the Maine deshtr'yers out o' 
sight. 



M Cf)e Kidaea 

n2u$keuer$« 



^i29^ 



Cfte Kiddea musketeers* 



MAIL! for the fancy boys advance in line. 
Marching in peace — ah, they can march 
so fine ! 
Heads raised and lordly — soldierly, too. 
(But that's about ail that some soldiers can do.) 

Swift as an eagle shot — called to obey, 
They halt. "War's game is another," they say. 
Pvight face! "the game's up;" say we halt^ if you 

please ; 
We belong to the "Duplex," the famous N. G.'s. 

Didst know not we're filed as the "rank" 

musketeers ? 
Hoot — stop your bold hissing ; we're 'customed to 

cheers. 
Give ear — we give hope ; when the lad votes to 

stay. 
He lives! (some the same as the runner-away.) 
^ J3I ^ 



^Mingled Sweets and Bitters»^ 

Sure, if chick's in the heart, 'tis no fault of the 

lad 
Who's been chicken-fed, humored with daintiest 

fad. 

There's no place like safe home, 'though one's set 

on the shelf, 
And why fight for Unc' when one can't for 

oneself? 

Hello, there ! stand off ; to the bloodhounds, com- 
mand. 

We belong to the ranks of a peace-going band. 

We belong to the marchers a world seldom sees. 

We're the kidded high-flyers— the famous 
N. G.'s. 



j^tS2^ 



M^ Co Hmcricati 

Boer spmpdfMzcrs. ^ 



>t 133^ 



Co American Boer Spmpatblzers. 



¥E talk about your Transvaal war, 
And clap your hands at England's foe ! 
Ye sing the praise of men whose ways 
The pious hypocrite betrays. 
Ye scan the cruel death-list o'er, 
To gloat o'er the appalling score, 
And drinks as wine brave England's woe. 
Alack, America ! 

Ye bless the hand the shot that laid, 
And curse the sacrifice made 
Of noble warriors, sons of love. 
Who didst their gallantry but prove. 
Still prays your heart with eager lust : 
"Be England crumbled to the dust." 
Alack, America ! 

What be ye? Christians? Fools? Say what! 
Kas England proved ye so unfair? 
If her proud breast could brook no rest. 
Till to release her sons oppressed, 



J' Mingled Sweets and Bitters> ^ 

She strove, is it for you to blot 
Her kind intent with mud and mot? 
Remember she who by you pressed, 
In days of peril — friend confessed. 

What England claims, the world may share. 
(Not so the Boer land.) 
She ne'er conceals what light reveals. 
And with the whole world fairly deals. 

(Unlike the Boer band.) 
The grizzly bear shrieks in his lair, 
And men would rescue. England spare. 
Pray God spare her and with her bear. 
Her grief should be the freeman's care. 
And though with bitter cost perforce. 
She triumphs in the main, 
Know, England's gain is no man's loss; 
Nor would her loss mean gain. 



«^ \^b t^' 



n £e$son In 

experience* ^ 



jt J37> 



R £e$$on in €xperience. 



'E sat upon one couch; the book 
Unopened 'tween us lay. 
I studious ; whilst he tried to brook 

The stream of thought away. 
We spoke, and languished in our speech, 

Scarce knowing what to say; 
When he sighed — "Love, I shall not teach 
Your lesson learned to-day." 

The book, the book, the guilty book, 

Between us meekly lay. 
I cast one saddened, soulful look 

Upon't, and turned away. 
"Beloved !" I sighed, "the lesson taught 

Me yesternight gave pain ; 
And if I knew each task thus fraught, 

I'd ne'er resume again. 

"Ah — why didst thou all peace disturb, 

Quick the untried life. 
Why dwell upon that fatal verb, 

That verb with torment rife? 



^ Mingled Sweets and Bitters. ^ 

Mine eyes are strained with weeping, dear. 

My heart has lost repose. 
I trace tlfe scent of fragrance near. 

But blight is on the rose. 

"You said a wanton lock too near 

Your cheek, had fanned a flame, 
For that mad kiss — for passion's tear, 

Was that poor lock to blame? 
You drained life's story from my breast ; 

Love's secret from my soul. 
Then said — I should not have confessed, 

And blamed me for the whole. 

"And now, too late, that sullen book 

Lies like a serpent, there — 
Unfeeling, whilst the tearful look 

Bespeaks the heart's despair. 
A lesson's spent ; a wreckage moored. 

You leave me with my fears, 
And for the pains I have endured 

An heritage of tears.' 



jfc J40.^ 



^ mp neii. 



^UJjfc 



mp m\u 



H WANDERED down the cassimere dell. 
And saw sweet Nell, the village belle: 
The little birds were wont to tell 
That she was theirs as well — as well, 
That she was theirs — my Nell. 

I saw her flush and I heard her sigh, 
And a tear bedimmed her lovely eye. 
As the shepherd boy passed coldly by. 
I heard her sigh — I heard her sigh — 
With a tear-drop in her eye. 

My Nell, the reigning village belle. 
She loved the shepherd deep and well. 
He was a handsome, heartless swell. 
And her sorry fate I could foretell. 
Her fate I could foretell. 



«^ Mingled Sweets and Bitters* J- 

When I my honest love declared, 
She drooped and my poor love despaired. 
Confessed his wiles, her heart ensnared. 
But for him alone she cared — she cared. 
For him alone she cared. 

Like a beaten bough she bent — and wailed — 
Her step 'laxed — and her bright cheeks paled. 
Her eyes waxed, day by day she failed. 
Then her blasted life the wretch assailed. 
Her life the wretch assailed. 

Another wedded — hard to tell. 
Remorse soon caged him in a cell. 
His mad shrieks on Nell's weak ears fell. 
But then — ah, well — our lovely belle 
Broke down and died — My Nell ! 

The same sweet birdling notes arise. 
The same mad doles fall where she lies. 
While I with swollen, weary eyes. 
And shattered heart her fate decries — ' 
Poor Nellie's fate — decries. 



1^ Cpdia. 



^145j» 



£paia. 



I'M thinking of Lydia, my sweetheart of the 
past; 
She glideth hke a vision o'er my brow. 
I think too how she bore with me in days too 
sweet to last; 
How I would those days returned to me, now ! 

I've never found another girl to love as I loved 
her. 
Did I covet her too dearly ? Heaven knows ! 
For the angels took her from my side and though 
she haunts me still, 
Her grave is where the sycamore now grows. 

How in the fields I plucked those elder-blossoms 
she so loved ; 
Just to pin them on the bosom of her dress. 
How she paid me back with sunshine in her fas- 
cinating smile, 
And a little, gentle, maidenly caress. 



^ Min gled Sweets and Bitters^t^ 

The balmy days recall her with a fragrance sad 
and sweet ; 
In grief my silver-threaded head I bow. 
I've tried hard to forget— but No! — Naught 
taunts as Memory can ; 
And I would I laid beside my Lydia now. 



otUS^ 



fl CtDentieri) 
Centurp 6!rL 



0^149^ 



H Cioctitietl) Cetiturp GirU 



Y true love is a soldier brave, 
But a duke has won my hand. 
Alas I ponder, for between — 
Love and discretion, stand. 

I love my soldier, and I dote 

On my good duke's riches, too. 
But what's the worth of a whole world's love, 

When the man isn't worth a sou? 

Shall I take my love and starve, 

Or shall I take my duke and pine? 

Shall I drain life's bitters to the dregs. 
Or drink of the rich man's wine? 

Shall I choose a bed of straw — for a couch 

Of silver sheen and down? 
Shall I choose a man who'll make me pay 

A thousand sighs for a gown? 
^ J5'J ^ 



.^Mingled Sweets and Bitters..^ 

Never, never, for the times are changed. 

Romance is an idle dream. 
And the love-lorn spirit of a century ago 

Is a skeleton now, I ween. 

A skeleton grim, with the face of a fool, 
Bid Love break his arrow and stays. 

For a girl can't press her hand to her heart 
These cold and practical days. 



^> )o^ «5* 



H Ottle familiar 



<^J53^ 



R £iUle familiar mcakp« 



DOWN in the meadows, where the little ass 
is braying, 
And the skies are bluer than Venetian hue, 
I spied a little maiden, near the convent steps 
a-praying. 
And I watched her from the distance, wouldn't 
you? 

I know not what her prayer was like, nor how she 
prayed; I know 
That the priest was eyeing her as well as I, 
And her prayer went straight to heaven ; sure to 
heaven it had to go. 
'Twas the heaven of our hearts — or that on 
high. 

Yes, the maid was softly praying, and the little 
ass was braying. 
And the merry birds were singing on the trees ; 
And the priest and I were quaking, for our hearts 
were sadly aching. 
When the maid got up — and — dusted ofif her 
knees. 



^ Brdoado< ^ 



J^ J57j> 



Brauaao* 



IVE me your heart — give me your hand — • 
And we'll defy ev'ry law in the land. 
Let us have joy — prate me no pain, 
What's the use brooding forever on rain? 
Come to me, darling — drain of my breast — 
Light of my soul — you can claim all the rest. 
Hear me, I pray — turn not away — 
Swift falleth night, come then ; heed but the 
day. 
Give me your heart — give me your hand — 
Love is life's beacon, knows no command. 
Let us have joy — let us have peace — 
When the clay covers us, all then must cease, 
will cease. 



Jtt59Ji 



jis m wi$c 



J* I6i j^ 



jfl$ m Wm Will sap* 



(From Crowns and Tomb Roses.) 



DANCE, and the stars sprinkle light on your 
feet. 
Shrink from the dance, and the clouds fall. 
Robe your light heart with illusive conceit. 

Laugh away sorrows and cares, all. 
Build your bright castles with a bold grace. 
Lose not a secret, but boast one, in place. 
Prattle of joy — aye — reveal not your woe. 
Grief knows no refuge. Experience doth show. 
The world's heart is callous — ^the world's heart is 

cold. 
And nothing but sunshine will answer, all told. 



^i63J' 



^ 3o$t ^ 



^liS* 



3o$e^ 



Y little Jose, longingly I think of thee, my 
boy. 

Tossed as I am upon the ocean's bosom, drear 
and wild. 
Crushed thy poor mother's heart, bereft of ev'ry 
hope and joy, 
She seeks thy recreant father's side ; nor can be 
reconciled. 

He left for far-off Southern clime, his native land^ 
his home. 
His parents' roof and parentless, he strove to 
cast thee by. 
I follow o'er his trail, nor fear; for thee, sweet,, 
would I roam 
O'er wilder waters — though, perchance, I go- 
there but to die. 



«^ Mingled Sweets and Bitters* ^ 

A weapon in his hand I see, the clouds are 
strangely dark. 
A warning- comes from frowning skies, I can- 
not heed it now. 
Another day — and we shall meet. I'd turn to 
thee — but hark ! 
The steamer's whistle shrieks "to arms !" and 
ice-drops freeze my brow. 

But, oh, perchance, thou dost no more recall my 
features, dear. 
Thou'rt but an infant, and hath but a ''day- 
mind" ; it were well. 
Yet love, the shedding (from thine eyes) of that 
sweet, simple tear, 
The day we parted, scathed my heart; 'twas 
there the lava fell. 



^ J68^ 



1^ 3a$up*$ 
Secret 



j» J69j» 



3a$up'$ Secret 



-p)RINCE JASUP, one day, 
^_[o While romping at play, 

Began toi dream and to sigh. 
The skies looked blue, 
His eyes filled with dew, 

And a passing brown bird saw him cry. 
What, what did he say ? 
That fair August day, 

Sweet nine-year-old darling, so spry. 

"My queen, where is she? 
Does she now think of me ? 

Is she ever as thoughtless as I ? 
I dance and I play. 
And I scarce ever say, 

'Oh, would that my queen were nigh.' " 

She is kind — she is true — 
And there's only a few 



j» Mingled Sweets and Bitters:^ 

In this great world like her, I daresay. 
She bears no jeweled crown; 
She wears never a frown, 

But to purchase her, millions won't pay. 

Of all royalty fair 
There's not one to compare 

With this right royal beauty, I ween. 
Oh, where is she now ? 
(And he knit his fine brow.) 

Where is my loved one, my queen? 

The bird ceased to sing- 
Sadly halted on wing— 

And a shudder passed through his small frame, 
"Cease, Jasup, your wailing. 
The blue skies are paling, 

And you damp my bright heart, quite the same. 
Pray, who is this maid 
You deplore? I'm afraid 

You will never confess her, by name. 

Jasup opened his eyes 

With frank, childish surprise. 



t^Ot My Legfacy,.^ 

Will I not, pretty bird? You shall hear. 
There is nothing to hide, 
Just a moment abide, 

And my secret, in truth, you will bear. 

It is she who in pain 
Toils, with little to gain ; 

Just to lavish that little on me, 
And I missed not her smile 
In my play all the while — 

The smile of my brave mother dear. 



^ J73^ 



Co 
3o$e* 



^175jfc 



Co Jos^. 



H PRISON'S a palace, with you by my side, 
dear. 
The skies know no clouds, by the light of your 
grace ; 
The world may condemn me ; what care, if they 
chide, dear? 
I know but one beacon ; that is your sweet face. 

I bless the first day that you came to my arms, 
dear. 
For since that first day life was rife with true 
bliss. 
Your hand-touch, your glance, all your sweet 
baby-charms, dear, 
Made life worth the living — heaven woke in 
your kiss. 



^ Mingled Sweets and Bittets««g^ 

Remain but the child I adore, do not stray, dear. 
Be the pure, gentle sunbeam, and mark well thy 
rays. 
As the blind do I trust to thee— lead thou my way, 
dear. 
God long feed thy lamp, to redeem thee with 
praise. 



^ J78,3t 



3 ^^^^'^ 



*3tI79j» 



Cooe's Rigbtmare. 



TOOTSY and Wootsy ran away from home ; 
home ; 
'Spected they'd be happy ; thought it wise 

to roam 
Where the turtle doves cooed, so they might coo, 

too, 
But alas, our dovelets had no rest to woo. 
Wootsy's papa sought him on a dozen trains. 
Tootsy's mama furnished purses full of pains. 
Dovelets found no shelter — knew not what to do, 
When the sorry rain fell, and wet them through 

and through. 
Tootsy, clasping Wootsy, cried, "Take me to 

mother's bed, 
Or you'll have a little corpse to wander with in- 
stead. 
Next time fill your pockets, love, and don't rely 

on mash, 
For Love won't furnish room or roof, nor one 

square meal of hash." 



^ CDC 
Rthsu 



^ 123 v!* 



Cbe Jlrrest 



OW that I'm your captive, gaze on my fair 
face, 
Can you there not childhood's innocence yet 

trace ? 
'Though I've just departed on a Hfe of shame. 
Brand me as you will, but touch not mother's 

name. 
Mother strove as hard as ever angel could 
To protect her darling; strove to keep her good. 
But the tempter came and stole me from her side, 
Heartless then he left me — cared not had I died. 

l^hen alas, where could I turn — v/here could I 

go? 
Who cared for the outcast, who could help my 

M^oe? 
Who would strive to lift me? lead me toward the 

light? 
Hungry, cold, despairing, I walked the streets by 

night. 



^ Mingfled Sweets and Bitters. ^ 

Ah, I see the quiver, hear the pitying sigh, 
See the tear-drop tremble softly in your eye. 
But my lips speak truly ; pardon me your pain ; 
Close the doors behind me, question not again ! 

Captain : "We will not detain the creature ; let 

her depart in peace. 
Would heaven were as gracious, and bid her 

torments cease. 
Arise, poor woman, lift thy head, and lead a 

better life !" 
But ere the captain finished, flashed forth a 

gleaming knife, 
Broke the sweet face in smiles of peace, tossed 

proudly up her head. 
The weapon healed — like those kind words ; the 

outcast child — lay dead. 



^iS6^ 



Spinu 



jfcJ87jt 



£eaa m, spirin 



(An Hymn.) 



LEAD me, Spirit, gently lead me, 
O'er life's barriers— to the grave. 
Would that Sin had long since freed me; 
Would thou now my soul couldst save. 

Mercy, for the night doth lower ; 

Shadows veil my eyes with tears. 
Stay the hovering, hasty mower — 
I repent my wasted years. 
Stay the hovering, hasty mower ; 
Oh, restore my wasted years. 

Slow thy tread, I fain would tarry; 

Winds too swiftly bear thee by; 
Heaven ! oh wilt my burden carry, 
So I triumph when I die! 
Heaven ! oh wilt my burden carry ? 
So I frimnph when I die ! 



flt FRp Brotbcr's 

Comb. 



^J9I j» 



m mp Brother's Comb* 



" In silent glory, 'neath this mound 
My only brother sleeps." 

WEET brother, thou poor orphan, tempest 
tossed, 

God in His mercy lifted thee from earth, 
And gave thee Heaven for home ! 

A sister mourns thee ; she, to whom thou wert 
Father and Consoler ; precious worth ! 
What comfort at thy tomb? 

But thou art with thy God and happy now. 
Angels attend thee, dear soul, thou art blest ! 
No more the cares of life becloud thy brow. 
Nor wind nor tempest lacerates thy breast. 
Elonored this spot, which holds thy sacred dust. 
In peace and glory, rest. 



^tn.^ 



J\ rnoaern 
Haam. 



^J95j» 



n modern M^m. 



(In Fantastic Rhyme. )^ 



*JYl MAN'S a man, say what you will (though 

zTu. Will may be his name), 

If he yields to converse, he's a man no less 

(though a woman, may do the same). 
'Tis no fault of his — nor is the fault hers. 
The tongue is the least to blame. 
But mark, in the night — her eye a beacon light — 
Shining clear into his breast — there to rest. 
A footfall on the pavement to lure him from his 

post. 
And bid him feel no roundsman lives! (he might 

have been a ghost.) 
A hurried beat — to a dark retreat — 
A struggle and a theft 
Of blissful snatches — only patches (that's how 

they get left). 
Awhile the voice seductive rocks his hapless 

cradle o'er 



«^ Mingled Sweets and Bitters: t^^ 

The deep, tempestuous swell — to break't upon 

the treacherous shore, 
'Tis time he cursed the hour they met (he 

wouldn't that, of course) ; 
So he had better blame the day they put him on 

the force. 

"Oh, lead us not," the preacher saith ; but I would 

wager, Will, 
That ev'ry bluecoat's up in arms to smash this 
' bloodless bill, 

And the spirits rage in heaven! ("lead our 

breth'ren not astray.") 
Know — preachers sometimes say a thing, and 

mean't the other way. 

But truth is truth, my boy, her glance hath deftly 
intricate 

Designs ; be callous ; look askance — sure, 'tis the 
divil's ovv^n bait. 

The glittering eye of the reptile dooms the fas- 
cinated bird. 

Wild beasts of the lair are tamed with a glare 
(the tongue need not utter a word). 



t^ Of My Legfacy,e5^ 

Adam was an officer Avho guarded Paradise ; 
And I daresay when the serpent spake, he thought 

him dearly wise, 
And meekly quaffed, while the tempter laughed 

(who but Satan in disguise). 
A stimulating beverage — in the draught from 

Eva's eyes. 
But the consequence, poor penitent — poor drunk 

and guilty m.an, 
Lost courage, shoulder, half his brace, and away 

with Eva ran. 
And in his fright — great heavens by night — near 

frowning wilds — take note, 
His heart gave a bound, his stomach turned 

'round, and the apple popped into his 

throat. 



And the woman, alas, some venom hath ta'en 
from the reptile's to her tongue. 

So ever after Adam's heart and ears alike were 
stung. 



^Mingled Sweets and Bitters: jfc 

But at worst they had rivals none ; unlike to-day, 
With a world full of Adams, and most of them 

gay. 
Some of them youthful— some of them gray, 
Tender of heart and soft— soft in the brain. 
With these tendencies, Eve never fails to raise 

Cain. 

But a man with a club and a gun at command 
Can afford to be brave, aye, he'd beat a whole 
band. 

Is he watchful, alert? 

Is he ever a flirt? 

Is he mindful of loss? 

Of the scrupulous boss ? 

Is he timid ? Nay, nay— then illusions, away ! 

Woman's changeless as Morning; enduring as 

day. 
And true as April knows no rain — and March no 

winds, are they. 



* * * 



* 



My Willie, sigh not. No ! not mine ! 
The wife's turned up at last. 
^200^ 



J- Qy My Legacy. J- 

My purple-red horizon with grim shadow is o'er- 

cast. 
My bloody heart bleeds silently; my dream of 

bliss is past, 
And tears profuse (not crocodile) rain as in 

showers — so fast. 

And there, not remote — with his glaring coat. 
And gleaming brass — fair sight ! 
He stands, gallant man, saying "I'm not A-dam." 
And the devil is put to flight. 

Moral. 
Not always is fact, what appearance reveals. 
The artfullest criminal, the most crime conceals. 
Nor can a man always be judged by his carriage, 
Especially that man who won't "advertise" 
marriage. 



^20J^ 



n Waterp 
Spouter. 



jfc203ofc 



Cbe Waterp Spouter* 



D 



WOULDN'T be a sparrow; no, no. 
I wouldn't be a ragged bow wow wow. 



Not if I could help it. 
But I'd be a little gold-fish, 
Just to grin at ev'ry passing face, 
And make them wish they'd have my place, 
In Summer. 

I would like to float in water; 

And I think a fishlet oughter. 

And particularly one that's dressed in gold. 

But I so love a commotion, 

('Though I dread the horrid ocean,) 

That I'd flirt and dabble in the fountain, bold. 

The fair damsel, I would court her 

From my bowl of crystal water, 

Till she'd turn green jealous eyes upon my dish; 

Then I'd quickly turn and quit her. 

Laugh that I could so outwit her. 

Drop my golden scales, — and be a — better fish. 



ye. 



j«207j» 



fluoia ye. 



TRUST not the smooth-tongued stranger, 
Who praises, bends and bows. 
Beneath his arts lurks danger, 
And shallow are his vows. 

Avoid the eye, like magnet, 

That strains your recognition. 
Its influence — like a drag-net, 

Would bear you to perdition. 

Reject the fondling fingers 

That fever in caress. 
The creature foully lingers. 

Designing wickedness. 

That man who'd thus distract you ; 

Who'd love pursue for fun, 
From crowds who would attract you, 

Is an unworthy one. 



^209,^ 



H^ ClK inerrp- 

6o-Roun(l« ^ 



J* 21 1 J* 



Cfte n2errp=6o=Routid. 



'OW the masses rule the earth, 
Quest like fools — control man's birth. 
Seek the stage for wit and mirth. 
Ranting "live for what life's worth!" 
This world's but a pleasure-ground, 
Build us then a merry-go-round. 

'Round they stagger, 'round they go. 
Eyes they glitter, cheeks they glow. 
Lusty, drunken instinct show. 
Red and yellow wine must flow. 
"Banquet life," they cry, "a spread!" 
Time to sober when we're dead. 

"At its best," the sages own, 
"Life is short." Why grind the stone? 
Give light labor, spare the bone. 
Devils grin when mortals groan, 
Come, clasp hands, Bohemians free! 
Join us on our jubilant spree. 



^ Mingfkd Sweets and Bitters. ^ 

Swiftly 'round, day whirls with night. 

Constant flame and endless light 

Dulls mind, wrecks heart, weakens sight. 

Nature challenged, cuffs her slight. 

Turns the stone ; prepares the mound, 

The while the maddening wheel goes 'round. 



j«2J4^ 



Cfte Rorror of a 

msDt's Visitation* ^ 



^2J5jfc 



Cbe Rorror of a RisDt's Visitation* 



IN my prison I sat thinking, and my heart with 
fear was sinking, 
As I gazed into the future which appeared so 
dark and drear. 
And I fancied that a spirit, silent, vague, I could 
not hear it — • 
Has gained entrance by the bolted door, and 
stood beside me, near. 

Whether but a passing vision, to be banished 
with decision. 
Or a messenger in truth, there, standing near 
my iron bed, 
I could not discern till after I had heard his hol- 
low laughter. 
Which nigh froze my heart, and filled me with 
remorse and greater dread. 



^Mingfled Sweets and Bitterss.^ 



I was struck with mortal terror, and I prayed this 
fiend might bear her, 
Whom methought I'd murdered — back — to end 
this torture pending o'er. 
It seemed she had sent him to me, to haunt, ter- 
rify, pursue me, 
For my conscience racked and branded, burned 
a Hving hell, — and more. 

Lo, methought that once I'd loved her, yet no 
sigh of mine e'er moved her 
To a single look of pity — though my sorro-w 
gnawed within. 
I grew jealous, vengeful, saddened — for her bit- 
terness had maddened 
Me, — and then I swore to kill her, if her heart 
I could not win. 

I still see that ardent lover bend attentively above 
her. 
Place a golden ring upon her finger, soft and 
white as snow. 
True, I vowed as her eyes led him, she would 
never live to wed him. 
And advanced with weapon in my hand, and 
struck the fatal blow. 



^Ot My Legacy««3fc 

in the dense woods then they found me hidhig 
and they quickly bound me 
With great iron chains and cast me in the dun- 
geon dark and drear. 
And altliough I strongly pleaded to be spared 
they had not heeded 
My entreaties— but they captured me to let me 
perish here. 

In the darkness faint and dying, no one bark- 
ened to my sighing, 
Not a soul came near to soothe my troubled 
breast or give me cheer. 
But in heavy chains all bleeding, and with demons 
my path leading 
To that world of horror — I collapsed — and 
dropped a burning tear. 

With a start I 'woke, and shrieking — gazed about, 
the demon seeking 
With my bloodshot eyes— scarce trusting it was 
but a passed dream. 
My heart leapt with joy, and beaming were mine 
eyes to know 'twas dreaming. 
And to thank Him for the blessing of one day 
that smiled serene. 



Co ri)e 
iSnnamable IHiss* 



^ 22J c* 



Co t1)e ISnnamabk m%%. 



HE shoots with eyes coal black and fierce. 
And aims each weakling heart to pierce. 
Hers no shrewd game, yet strange for that, 
She finds some fool to nose the bat. 

Her boastful way — her snappish air, 
Makes one disgustful of the fair. 
Conceit ? Deceit ? Ah, better that 
One wastes no words on such a cat. 



jft223jfe 



e$$ap on 
man* 



j»225^ 



€$$dp on man* 



(In Crude Comparison.) 



HMAN is an animal God put into woman's 
hands to tame or to tease. Tame him, he is 
docile — and you instil within his brow a certain 
quality of thought which enables him to exercise 
actual common-sense in affairs of love. 

Tease him, and he pitches and bites. You 
might as well consign him to the pit. Some 
animals are tamed with sugar ; some require the 
whip ; but don't nauseate him with sweets above 
all, or you'll get the froth of madness and 
dyspepsia. 



^221^ 



On tbe Suiciae of 
m Erisi) Craiton 



^229jt 



On m Sulciae or an irisft CraUor. 



. OD ! what a fearful death ! 

I stood and gasped for breath 
That horror robbed me of, when the dread 
truth at last was known. 
He was a traitor, yes ! 
But then they suffered less 

Than he, and may his tragic end for that grave 
crime atone. 

And Pity pleads for peace 
To his poor spirit. Cease, 

Oh, cease to taunt him still — for see — while alt 
despise, 
Disfigured and shattered. 
Deserted and battered, 

'Mid sunshine and strangers his wrecked^, 
branded body now lies. 



^23J.^ 



^ Desponacticp* ^ 



^233 J* 



De$t)onaeticp* 



THE merry sun from his azure height, 
With his play of wanton, frolicsome light 
Beaming with splendor, glowing with mirth, 
Chases ail gloom from this mad, misty earth ; 
And men laugh freely, and women are gay; 
Sweet children revel in innocent play. 
Birds twitter softly — sea-gulls shriek with de- 
light, 
But I would they were done, and I would it were 
Night. 

And when night comes, I would it were day. 
With the day, 

Hope for night again ! God — can this be heart- 
decay ? 

Is't youth, is't corruption, is't frenzy, is't life ? 

And is't sin when the heart-leper shortens the 
strife ? 



J- Mingled Sweets and Bitters. ^^ 

To be off with the battle — the tumult — the care ; 
The mad, mocking voices a-ringing in air. 
The tempestuous struggle, the folly, the blame, 
The distraction, the greed, the defiance, the 
shame ? 

Away with the clamor, the doubt, the despair ; 
The mad, mocking voices a-ringing in air, 
And silver-tipped artifice ! soul-racking din, 
If to live through it all,, what, zvhat is there to 



win r 



Love, honor, renown, recompense? Nay, relief? 
Ah, relief comes not here, and the life is not brief. 
Not brief to the mis'rable — God spare the sigh, 
And forgive the discouraged, who crave Thee to 
die. 



^ 236 ^ 



^ i^appltrts^. ^ 



j*257> 



I)appine$$« 



MAPPINESS, of all life's gems, the rarest ; 
Of all earth's blooms — the fairest. 
Of all winged charms the fleetest. 
Of all God's gifts — the sweetest, 
Where are her haunts? How can we bait her? 
Shall mortal spirit e'er locate her? 
We search the pearly gates of pleasure. 
We fathom mines of golden treasure. 
We ask of wit — of wisdom — learning, 
Of buoyant souls, with passion burning, 
What is the hire? Smiles and wealth, 
The wit replies, "Go ask of Health." 
The pedagogue, ''Thy task improve." 
The fond one sighs, "Go question Love." 

But through them all we learn this fact, 
That Happiness is not compact. 
She, as a vapor in the air. 
Divided here and mingled there. 
Is part of each ; while all contend her, 
The Trinity alone, can blend her. 
.sfc 739 jft 



1^ CotiUtitmctit ^ 



>24J J* 



CotiUntment 



LOOK to the birds — so blythe on wing. 
Drink deep the songful draught they 
bring. 
And train your bosoms to employ 
The art of voicing care, to joy. 
What be the clouds to them ; they see 
The fruits of His grand Majesty 
On ev'ry green branch ; weave a nest 
And harshest tempests brave and breast. 
They see beyond the clouds, the bow, 
They see the brook refreshing flow. 
Deceit they neither fear nor know. 
But hope for sunshine, trust above, 
And poise their tiny heads with love. 
Contentment times their hours along. 
And tunes their dullest days with song. 

Oh, would that mortal eye could mark 
The sap that nourishes life's bark. 
Declare the fruit His bounty yields ; 
Revere the Helper's arm, that shields. 



«^Mmgfled Sweets and Bitters.*^ 

Sometimes a weakling leaf may fall. 

That leaf responded to His call. 

Know crops beyond us nobly rise ; 

So hail the hope that pacifies. 

Man should rejoice on Life's green tree. 

His portion should contentment be. 

Bend to His way, extol His power, 

And bless His judgment of the hour. 

Assured be still, the Lord is kind. 
Be grateful, for thy gift of mind. 
If wealth and love are thee denied, 
With health and strength be satisfied. 
Game not with cards, nor prophet seek. 
The present for itself doth speak. 
Drink of Faith's stream ; its brink will purge 
A too swift current would submerge. 
Sow ably, watch, wait; who endures 
Gleans grace, and Time fair sprout assures. 
Be truthful, just, revile nO' Fate. 
Your peace of mind will compensate. 
Contentment, in the human sense. 
Is stellar gift! life's radiance! 
If ye would treasure toast, the best — 
Contentment, know, is worthiest. 
^2U^ 



^ courage. 



>245jlfc 



Courase* 



'E need no bold Ulysses ; no Achilles, no 
Alars ; 
No blood arrayed contestants ; no defense of 

Lochinvars ; 
No clanking arms ; to courage prove, we need 

no bloody wars. 
And men should ne'er credentials seek, for 

glories in the cause. 

That we might bare our breasts to blasts, and 

kindly contemplate 
The erring ; aid and succor them ; nor scorn, nor 

execrate. 
Stand proof against life's cannon-balls ; disdain 

the smile of hate, 
And fear not drift, nor leper touch — but dare the 

sword of Fate. 



jfc247«5t 



^ Beautp. ^ 



^249^ 



Beautp* 



EDOL of my theme, pride of my verse, 
Vision of loveliness, dream of perfection : 
But to behold thee, modest and terse, 

Were to be dazed by some meteor's reflection. 
Clusters of gold hide in folds of thy hair. 

And thy lips curve for love's tenderest kisses. 
Lilies recline on thy bosom so fair ; 

Sharing their sweetness, one learns what true 
bliss is. 

Be thy form supple or lithe, be it queenly. 
Thy manner shy, devout, e'en debonair, 

Little it matters, so grace flows serenely, 

And the eyes' eloquence, the soul's charms 
declare. 

Staff of my song, life of my story; 

If but thy pulses with harmony beat ; 
If but thou breath'st love, 'lumined with glory, 

I would prostrate me, a slave at thy feet. 



J^ R^lingled Sweets and Bitters. J' 

Be thy face rounded, or still be it ovid; 

Be thine eyes blue or black, hazel or gray; 
Thou art supreme, so thou canst be lov^d. 

Beauty exalted, soul of my lay. 



^252^ 



^ 6eniu$« 



^253^ 



6cniu$. 



USE of the mysteries ! Nymph of vastest 
space ! 

Hallowed, beatific, Spiritor of grace ! 
Breathest thou the first breath of the fresh-borrs 

wind, 
To charge its influence on some favored kind?' 
Since Reason blind can intuitively trace 
Thy wondrous presence in the spirit mind, 
Why hide from human eye thy inspiring face? 
Say, dwellest thou in realm yet undefined 
Where faintest heart-beats time a living race? 
Or art thou in those vaultless depths confined^. 
Where Glory's sculptured on a martyr's base? 
(Life partners e'er like suff'ring twins entwined. 
Odd mates, proud Victory in Misery's embrace.) 
Or knowest thou nor haven, nook, nor place, 
But drift'st a wanderer, for a world's solace? 
'Tis said thou tread'st the towering clifi^s of 

Time, 
'Mid star dust. Muse impetuous — Muse sub- 
lime ! 

«5* ^^d a?* 



.^Mingled Sweets and Bitters^^ 

What are we, that thou deignest to impart 
One note of rapturous music from thy heart ? 
A keyboard strike, harmonious in our throng-, 
To thrill the mass with symphony and song! 
Eloquence like a flower, with magic dart, 
Bursts from thine eyes and planes its way along 
To chosen soil ; there scentive hopes belong, 
And floral triumphs soon proclaim thy Bart. 
Genius, in love so partial ; Modesty is thy part. 
Though Fame be thy rare gift, Development is 
thy Art! 



«?• 2D6e5* 



£^e* ^ 



jlb257Jt 



torn. 



HRMOUR, tiny god of zeal and zest. 
So magnetic — ever welcomed as our 
guest. 
Shall we, honestly confessing? 
Call thee curse, or call thee blessing? 
Or wilt thou still keep us guessing? 

With thy dimples and thy wiles — 
Thy maneuvers and thy guiles — 
And thy wondrous change of smiles. 

We adore thee though the heart 
Feels the cruel sting of thy dart. 
True, thy lance's magic flight 
Quicks the stung heart with delight. 
But thou art a torturing sprite, 
Careth not for wrong nor right. 
Oft thou changest weal to woe; 
Fairest love to darkest foe, 
^259.5fc 



J' Mingled Sweets and Bitters: J> 

Mocking the distracted beaux — 
With side grimace — off you go. 
'Tis a monstrous outrage — yet we 
Hate to part, hate to forget thee. 

Oft we wrench old wounds asunder, 
To retaste delicious blunder. 
Let instinct or conscience blame us. 
Let the heartless worldlings shame us. 

Love debases, love defaces ; 
Love deflowers, love defies ; 
Love uplifts, and love replaces ; 
Love blinds and love opes the eyes. 

Love rides on a Shetland pony, 
Bathes in streams and hides in caves. 
Love despises true harmony; 
Tramples on some victims' graves. 

Love so silent, oft comes creeping; 
We nor dream nor guess his mien, 
Till we catch him slyly peeping. 
And we drive him forth again. 



JtQt My L e gacy,^ 

Then comes boring and imploring; 
Vows with tears and bended knee, 
Till we pity his adoring, 
And relieve his misery. 

Pouting, panting, railing, ranting. 
Luring, nestling, pleading still. 
Sure the trickster's so enchanting. 
We surrender to his will. 

Love conjures and love conspires; 
Makes fond bosoms madly burn. 
When in anger he retires. 
We entreat him to return. 

Oh ! ye Gods ! the shame to permit 
Love with malice. Love with spite. 
To steal in and flame the hermit, 
In the haunting hours of night. 

He in rouge and he in tatters 
Comes as villain — goes as thief, 
And the strongest bars he shatters ; 
Fills the brightest heart with grief. 



^ 600(l-IN$Dt ^ 



JH6ZJ^ 



600d=KiSDt* 



■OOD-NIGHT, thou radiant and enchanted 
flower. 

Pray heaven's eyelets guard thy slumbers well ! 
Drink thou the balm of Morpheus one brief hour, 

And wake refreshed from its magic spell. 
May the bright stars add glory to thy charms. 

And hosts of cherubim thy future bless. 
May angels fold thee in their silken arms, 
And His Divine Omnipotence, acquiesce. 
Good-night, good-night ; thy petals close, 
Sweet rose, good-night ! 




*?• z6^ «5* 



> 



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